


Perdón

by bigboobedcanuck



Category: Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: Cancer, Forgiveness, Gen, Hospitals, Past Abuse, making amends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-07
Updated: 2013-04-07
Packaged: 2017-12-07 19:01:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/751935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigboobedcanuck/pseuds/bigboobedcanuck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This little story just kind of popped into my head when I was wondering what happened to Weevil and his grandmother. Of course, I must relate everything back to Logan. Heh. </p><p>
  <i><br/>The door creaks open, and a boy tiptoes into the room. She can see that it is not Chardo, even though she has been waiting for three days for him to tell her what has become of Eli. Still Chardo doesn’t come, but whoever this is, he is strangely familiar. Squinting into the gloom, Leticia thinks she must be dreaming. Yet sure enough, Logan Echolls quietly approaches. Maybe he has come to evict her from this place, too.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Um…Mrs. Navarro?” He whispers, and hesitates like you would with a dog you think might bite. Her name sounds foreign coming from his mouth. She doesn’t think he’s ever said it before.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>She doesn’t answer because she doesn’t know what to say.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perdón

**Author's Note:**

> I'm posting my old fic from LJ here. Hoping the stories have aged well. :)
> 
> Spoilers for 222; set a few days later. Title is the Spanish word for "forgiveness." Letitica's POV.

The room is unnaturally dark and musty, its curtains drawn against the relentless sun. Lights from the machines beeping and whirring in the corner beside Leticia Navarro’s bed cast a faint glow — faint enough that her cataracts are blessedly unaffected. She sees the other sleeping patients in the small ward of old women through a haze that the doctor says will never get better without a surgery she will never afford.

No matter. The cancer will kill her soon enough. 

The door creaks open, and a boy tiptoes into the room. She can see that it is not Chardo, even though she has been waiting for three days for him to tell her what has become of Eli. Still Chardo doesn’t come, but whoever this is, he is strangely familiar. Squinting into the gloom, Leticia thinks she must be dreaming. Yet sure enough, Logan Echolls quietly approaches. Maybe he has come to evict her from this place, too.

“Um…Mrs. Navarro?” He whispers, and hesitates like you would with a dog you think might bite. Her name sounds foreign coming from his mouth. She doesn’t think he’s ever said it before.

She doesn’t answer because she doesn’t know what to say.

He perches on the edge of the plastic chair beside her bed. “Weevil wants you to know that he’s okay.”

Leticia definitely has something to say to this. “You saw him? Where is he?”

“He’s still in the county lock-up. The prison’s too crowded this week, or something.”

“It’s been three days. When will he go to the judge?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know.”

She didn’t see Eli get his diploma. Now she might never see him again if they don’t let him out. A swell of grief chokes her, and she coughs roughly, lungs rattling. Logan holds a glass of water to her lips, his hand firm behind her head. Leticia knows he can feel the bald patches in her hair, and she tries to squirm away. After she has a good swallow of water, he releases her and sets the glass back on the table. 

Neither says anything for a minute as her coughs recede. “What did you do?”

“Huh?” 

“What trouble had you at the police station this time?” Of course he is already out, while her Eli rots away.

He has the nerve to seem offended. “I didn’t do anything. I just had to give some statements. Something happened with my…friend.” It seems hard for him to get that word out. “Oh, and my father’s dead.”

“ _Dios de la justicia_ ,” she murmurs.

He spits out, “Don’t pray for him.” 

“I wouldn’t.” 

He studies the jug of tepid water on the table, and his voice is normal again. “So anyway. Weevil was really worried when he heard you passed out or whatever at graduation.”

“When did you and Eli become friends?”

He snorts. “We’re not.”

She says nothing, and they listen to the machines doing whatever it is they are doing. Leticia isn’t really sure. She waits for him to leave, but he doesn’t.

*

When she thinks about ten years spent cleaning the Echolls’ house, she remembers hard tiles beneath her knees and the smell of lemons; dull pain in her back and the cracking sound of leather on skin.

Aaron Echolls paid his household staff better than anyone else in Neptune — even Jake Kane, who was supposed to be so generous. Leticia had been thrilled to get the job, especially since her no-good daughter had just run off with her latest biker boyfriend and left Eli behind.

She thought it quite curious at first that the other maids didn’t seem to gossip about the famous movie stars they worked for. No one raised an eyebrow at how much vodka Mrs. Echolls drank, or how late Mr. Echolls stayed out with his latest leading lady. Everyone from the gardener to the chef went about their work in industrious silence. Leticia was sure she had lucked out with a good family for once, so liked by the staff.

It was her second week when she hurried into one of the living rooms to find the duster she’d been searching for — so many places to look! — all morning. She said a quick prayer of thanks as her hand closed around the plastic handle, and turned to go. Jumping in surprise, she made a brief high-pitched noise.

The boy stood frozen before her, holding a long belt in both hands, its silver buckle gleaming. Her brow furrowed in confusion, but he was a strange child — blustery and loud one minute, curled in upon himself the next. 

Leticia was about to ask what he was doing (couldn’t be anything good) when the boy’s father spoke behind her. “I’m waiting, Logan.”

She turned and saw Mr. Echolls standing in the door of his office. He didn’t even glance her way. This was nothing new; she’d had years of experience being ignored. Yet something about him made her heart skip a beat as gooseflesh spread over her arms. Leticia looked back at Logan, who stared at her with wide, imploring eyes. His lip trembled.

She thought about her grandchildren. The toilet that wouldn’t flush without a bucket of water tossed down it. The never-ending bags of groceries for hungry children that left angry red marks on her palms. The asthma medicine Juan needed. The diapers and formula for the new baby whose father had already abandoned her.

Exhaling the breath she held captive, Leticia stepped aside.

The boy’s head dropped, and he shuffled past her into the office. Mr. Echolls didn’t look back as he closed the door behind him. She only stayed to hear the first few lashes of the belt before Logan’s cries chased at her heels.

A few days later, Leticia watched as the child poured grape juice onto the new white carpet in his mother’s favourite sitting room. He smiled — a sharp grimace that made her flinch — before going back to the den to play video games. As she scrubbed at the stain, she could hear the pings and zaps as Logan hunted dragons.

When Mrs. Echolls saw the carpet, Leticia sorrowfully confessed that she had been thirsty and careless.

*

She’s not sure when she fell asleep, but when Leticia wakes, Logan Echolls is still there. “Is it Eli? Have you heard something?” She reaches for her watch on the table. Maybe it is the next day; sometimes the drugs make her sleep for so long. She squints at the hands, but can’t make them out in the gloom.

“No, I haven’t heard anything.” He glances at his wrist. “It’s just past noon. You didn’t sleep very long.”

She sets her watch back down. “Don’t you have somewhere better to be?”

He shrugs. “Planning my father’s funeral just doesn’t have the same appeal as hanging out in the terminal cancer ward.” 

A look comes over his face, like he’s just realized what he said, but Leticia laughs. It feels strange in her chest. “We throw pretty wild parties here, you’d be surprised. You just missed the piñata.”

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out. 

She doesn’t know what he’s sorry about — there are many possibilities — but it doesn’t matter. “So am I, _mijo_.” She reaches for his hand, and he lets her take it. As she falls asleep again later, his palm is sweaty against hers.

*

She’d always known the girl would end up in a bad way. That child thought she was so clever, but Leticia had seen many of her kind. Always getting in over their silly, pretty heads.

The morning of Lilly Kane’s funeral, Leticia stood outside Logan’s room. She could hear his sobs distinctly through the thick pine door, and her hand hovered over the knob. Downstairs, his parents bickered about a new movie contract, and how much of a percentage Mr. Echolls should hold out for. 

Leticia eventually went back to the bathroom down the hall to finish scrubbing the grout. She closed the door behind her.

A week later, her grandson had Lilly’s name soaked into his skin. Leticia pretended not to notice, and didn’t tell him that he was better off. She didn’t tell Logan that either. She hoped someone would.

When she heard on the 11 o’clock news that Mr. Echolls had murdered the girl, she found she wasn’t at all surprised.

*

Leticia wakes sometime later when two nurses bustle into the room and begin packing up her meager belongings. “I’m not dead yet,” she grumbles.

One of the women stops what she’s doing by the IV. “Don’t you know? You’re being transferred to a private hospital. Susan Walsh is coming from L.A. to examine you. You’re very lucky; she’s one of the best oncologists in the country.”

The other nurse smiles down and pats Leticia’s arm. “Your family’s doing everything they can for you, dear.”

That night, in a bed without lumps, Leticia gazes at a fog of stars before falling asleep. Eli is there in the morning, and reads her the paper while they wait for the fancy doctor to come. He doesn’t say how he made bail, and she doesn’t need to ask.


End file.
